Radioactive
by mynameisvaleria
Summary: Brooklyn has always been alone. In a town like White Pine Bay, there are little things teenage girls can do to stay alive, and she's chosen one of the hardest ones. Renting her body out has never been easy, but she was willing to take the risk. She never comes across the possibility that doing Dylan was one of the worst decisions she's made. (Dylan/OC) (Sexual content)
1. Chapter one

**Author's notes:**

HI GUYSS. Okay, I know, this is like wtf why are you on ff whutttt. Nah, seriously though. I can't believe I'm back here and this is crazy. I fall in love with new stuff and sometimes I don't come back for a long time. But here I am now... I hope my writing's improved lol. Anyways, I should warn you that there is sexual content. I don't describe most of the... graphic bits, but I focus a lot on her thoughts and feelings during the whole thing, so it does... well, sound a little dirty. I'm sorry.

Warning: Explicit sexual content.

**Chapter one.**

_Brooklyn Chang_

Every step I take brings me closer to destruction.

And I can't say I had no choice. I did. I had a choice to either starve and die at 16 years old, or I had the choice to this destructive path. It would bring me down, but at least it'd buy me more time.

The snow I walk on gets darker as I go, and when I look back, I've left behind a trail of black footprints. It's as if I am already condemned.

But I am, and I will accept that.

Once I get inside, I drop my coat. I've trained half a year for this and finally here I am. I'm not proud of it, but here I am. And fuck this, you know? I've always been on my own but this is a whole new level of alone.

I feel cold.

It's strange to feel cold because I'm on stage and I'm wrapped around this pole, I can feel so many pairs of eyes on me but I feel so cold. Goosebumps are erect all over my body and as someone's hands reach over to slap me I just feel him burning me.

I force a smile because I'm cold.

'What are you looking at?'

This Chinese man is in front of me and I can almost see my brother in him. _Jason, Jason, Jason,_ my brain reminds me as I spin around once.

The boy sitting next to him merely looks over, pulling his eyes from me.

'My boss died today.'

I tune them out after that because I am cold, and they are warm. And I will never be like them.

I make myself listen after I'm sure they've finished talking. I know when because the boy has got his eyes on me again, and I don't know what fascinates him so much. I am just a whore.

The Chinese man slips a few bills into my underwe- oh, sorry, I meant outfit, before leaving. It's just him left at this table now, and he pulls me down a little. 'When does your shift finish?'

'10 minutes later,' I try and whisper as seductively as I could, and I think I managed to pull it off.

He lets me go after that, but I can see he looks pleased, and there's determination in his eyes. I ask myself if I really can make myself go this far, but I mean… is there any other way I can study journalism? Or survive, really?

My shift finishes astonishingly fast, and I think it's because I am dreading what happened afterwards so much.

I don't even have to go look for him. He's just there when I've finished.

It's then that I get to see him properly. He's standing in front of me and I can't help but think: _Fuck, he's hot. _He's tall and intimidating, unshaven with light brown hair, and he looks rough enough to fuck me up really bad if I offend him.

'Do you know a motel around here?' he asks.

I put on my coat. 'I used to. But it got bought by someone named Norma Bates. I do have a home though.'

He chuckles, and I don't know why. 'Your family isn't home?'

'No,' I answer shortly. I didn't wish to elaborate.

He raises an eyebrow and looks at me again. 'Aw, come on.'

I consider for a second, and ultimately, his face wins me over. 'They're in Hong Kong. I've always been alone.'

For some reason he looks like he pities me for a moment. 'Ah, well, tough luck.'

I pull my coat around my body tighter. It was cold, so cold.

'You cold?' he asks just in time. I nod in response, and he takes off his coat before giving it to me. It doesn't fit through, because mine is too thick, so he just throws it around my shoulders.

The rest of the walk is silent until we arrive at my porch and I say, 'Private costs extra, you do know that, don't you?'

He laughs and merely nods.

I slip my hand into my pocket and pull out the key, before unlocking the door and stepping in. He invades my personal space at once, looking around the house in curiosity. It isn't until I threw off the coats and kissed him that he focused back on our deal again.

'You don't waste time, don't you?' he asks in between kisses.

I don't answer him, and pull him to my room instead, slamming the door close in case my housemate decides to come back tonight. I try to unbutton his shirt, but my fingers are clumsy and awkward, so he laughs it off and does it himself. I pull it off and watch it shimmy to the floor in the corner of my eye. And for a second, I think it kind of looks like my innocence.

'What's your name?' he whispers against my neck before kissing and biting my flesh.

A pang of pleasure shoots down my stomach, and I cry out a little in response. 'B-Brooklyn.'

'Mhmm, do they call you Brooke?' he asks again, mumbling against my collarbone this time.

I shakily nod. 'And you?'

'Dylan, and I'd like to hear you scream that tonight, all right?'

I don't answer him, because I can't. I'm too scared to.

I unbuckle his belt, hoping that the faster his pants are off, the faster it is done. He reacts by turning us so I'm trapped between him and the wall. I hear his pants drop to the floor and we're left there half-naked, him grinding into my waist as he groans in pleasure.

Me? I pretend to feel pleasure when I'm internally begging this to be over soon.

Before I know it, he picks me up and throws me onto the bed, and I can't help but squeal in surprise. He crawls up a moment later, and begins kissing down my chest. I roll us over so I'm on top, and he looks pleased at the arrangement, giving me a smirk. Then, reaching over, he unbuckles my bra, and exposes my bare breasts to him. _I hate him. _

I return the favour by pulling down his underwear, and I don't even dare to look at it.

He doesn't notice, because I'm already stroking him and his eyes are closed in ecstasy. I start grinding our hips together, and he realises that my underwear is still on. Grabbing it, he pulls it down and throws it away. '_Fuck_, just fuck me already, I can't take it anymore,' he says, and his tone is strained.

I take a deep breath, and I hope he doesn't notice my inexperience as I lower myself onto him. It's only halfway in but I feel like I'm being torn apart in two. Does it have to do with the fact that I don't really want this?

Before I could comprehend anything, he grabs my waist and shoves me down, and I let out a gasp in pain. I don't think I've been in so much pain in my life. But I don't scream, because I never scream. It's just not Brooklyn.

He seems pleased at my pain. Is it because he feels bigger this way? Or does he think I'm pleasured?

I don't know if he notices I'm a virgin, and I've just given him my first, but he doesn't seem to care as I slowly move up and down on him. _Bastard. I hate your fucking guts. _

I look up at the ceiling, forcing my eyes open so the tears don't fall down.

_This is my bed. I'm whoring myself out on my own bed. _

I want to cry, but I won't. _I am cold. _

_Pain, pain, pain. Pain. Painpainpain pain. Please help me. _

Suddenly, he flips us over and grabs my wrists. Pinning them over my head, he starts taking control. It's crazy. How much pain can one take before they faint?

'Uhhhh yes. Fuck. _Fuck, Brooke._'

_Harder, stronger, faster. _

I try to grip the bed sheets to relieve the pain but I can't. He's holding my wrists. It's just the beginning. This is just the beginning.

I can't have him thinking I don't like it, so I start doing what I do best. I act.

'Ohh yes, _please. _Yes, harder!'

It disgusts me to hear the words come out of my mouth.

Stay strong. It's not because I need to- I don't, but it's because I should. _You_ _chose this path, Brooke. You chose it! Suck it up, you coward!_

'Ng, uhh…' he groans as he shoves in extra hard. Leaning down, he kisses me again, and I can't handle that all at once. I can't breathe and he knows it but he just doesn't _care._ 'Brooke you promised to scream.'

His voice is devious and mischievous and I wonder briefly how he could manage to humiliate me so much in such a short time. 'Yes… please… Dylan…' I moan, trying to make it sound like I _liked _what he was doing to me.

Yes, amongst all the pain there was pleasure but it was just...

'That's not nearly loud enough,' he says, and slaps me on my arse, making me cry out in pain.

_Why the fuck-?_

'Dylan, oh please-'

_Slap. _

'_DYLAN! Yes, Dylan please_-'

I know what I was begging for but he has different interpretations.

I don't know how long that went. I was completely out of it, I just couldn't think anymore. I just did what I had to do and I was just too cold.

He began to utter swearwords under his breath, and I begged that he was finally done with me. How did he manage to go on for so long?

I fake my orgasm with his, just because he pays me.

Afterwards, he collapses next to me, and I try to keep my act up.

After a few long minutes, he starts talking again. 'Did you like that?'

'Yeah.'

It was a one word sentence because I was afraid that if I said more, everything would just pour out. I had no explanations anyway. I don't see how I could.

There's a pause again.

'Why'd you become a hooker?'

His voice sends chills up my spine, but there's something I like about it. I shrug, trying to look nonchalant. I can feel his eyes on me. 'Why does one become a hooker? I need the money.' And I elaborate no more.

'You don't talk much.'

'I don't,' I agree with him. 'Well, thank you.'

He chuckles, and I want to slap him. 'All my pleasure,' he replies, winking at me.

I feel sick, but nevertheless, I smile back at him. _Only yours. _

Then, I turn on my side and pretend to fall asleep. I get my breaths to fall in sync with my heartbeat, so it seems like I've fallen asleep. I think I counted to a few thousand heartbeats before he gets up from the bed, puts his clothes on, leaves the money on the bedside table and leaves the room.

When I think he's left, I let go of my breath and I start to cry. I see the blood on the sheets and I start to cry. I see the money and I start to think what a desperate person I've become. I cry so hard that I think my lungs are going to fall apart.

And then rolling on my back, I try to fall asleep.

**End notes:**

So there is Dylan. This is how I imagined him to be. If you like Dylan as much as I do, please share the fangirl-ish stuff lol.


	2. Chapter two

**Author's notes:**

This will be the last sexual chapter for a while lol. I don't really feel comfortable writing these scenes but they're crucial to the story, so... You know, they'll be here. I have never envisioned Dylan to be like this but... I just wrote and I couldn't stop.

**Chapter two.**

(He thinks she's fallen asleep, so he gets up and put on his clothes. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a couple of bills and leaves it at the bedside. Taking a last glance at the girl he had picked up, he leaves the room, closing the door behind him. But he doesn't leave the house just yet. He looks around, trying to catch glimpses of Brooke's life. And he thinks she's still asleep until he hears sobbing from her room. The cries get louder and louder, and it almost seems like she's in pain. Frowning, he leaves the house without another glance.)

_Brooklyn Chang_

The sun shines from the window and I know most people hate it, but I like it. It reminds me that I've gone through another day and I still live.

Throwing the covers off me, I attempt to get out of bed, yet I only manage to fall down from the weakness in my legs. My lower body throbs with an intensity, and I close my eyes at the blood that has not yet been cleaned off the sheets.

I sit for a couple of minutes, and I force myself off the floor, gripping into the table to steady myself. The sight of money now disgusts me.

I fix up my face and hair, and prepare to go to school. _And hopefully, no one will see me and recognise me. _

I paste a smile on my face, and join Bradley as we just talk, leaning on the lockers. A boy approaches us, and I know him as Norman Bates. He's in my English class. I smile at him, and he smiles back at me, but turns to Bradley soon after. 'Why don't you guys go to class? I'll meet you later,' she says.

Shooting them one last glance, I go to class without her- without anyone.

_I've always been alone. _

On my way back home, I pass Norman and some other guy about to take off on a motorbike. I smile at him, so he smiles back at me. 'Hey, Brooke.'

It takes me several seconds to realise that Dylan is the other guy.

He stares hard at me, and I can't help but notice that I'm intimidated by him- especially when we talk because there's always an unsettling look in his eyes when he talks to you and his eyes never leave your face.

'Hi,' I simply say.

Norman pats him on the shoulder. 'Oh, this is Dylan Massett. He's my brother.'

I don't manage to hide my surprise, and my jaw falls open just a little. 'O-oh. I'm Brooklyn.'

Dylan nods at me, and gives me a once over.

I take a step back, and say, 'Well, I have to get back home. I'll see you tomorrow, then.'

And then without acknowledging his goodbye, I walk as quickly as I can, hoping that they don't go the same way as I do. Suddenly, someone jumps on my back and I scream. 'Whoa, Jesus, what's with you?' Bradley laughs.

I roll my eyes and slap her on the shoulder lightly. 'Damn it. You scared the shit out of me.'

'So you've talked to Norman?'

I nod at her. 'Yeah, we're in the same English class. He's a nice guy,' I warn, hoping to get the message across.

As usual, it bounces back at me. She giggles, and comments, 'I know, right? He's so cute.'

I nod at that, not knowing what else I can say. I've done what I could and now it's none of my business whether she plays him like a puppet or whatever she decides to do. I've got more to worry about in life. Such as Dylan. If his tongue slips and he tells Norman…

Arriving home, I open the door and went to my room. Pulling the sheets out from my bed, I start towards the washing machine. I need to get the blood of as soon as possible, or I'd get sick every time I saw it.

As I pass the living room, a sudden 'hi' stops me in my tracks and I drop the sheets on the floor.

'What the fuck?!' I screech as Dylan stands there with his hands in his pockets casually. 'How the fuck did you get in here?'

He raises his eyebrows at me. 'You leave your spare key under the carpet and you wonder how I got in?' he asks.

'That's my roommate's,' I mutter under my breath, and gather up the bed sheets again. 'What do you want?'

He steps in closer to me, so I clutch the sheets closer to myself, as if it could protect me from him. He notices, and chuckles at it. But it's humourless, and it doesn't even touch his eyes. 'What are you doing with the sheets?'

'They're going in the wash.'

His stare slides down and catches sight of the dried blood. 'Right. You're a virgin.'

'Were,' I correct naturally, and stashes it in the washing machine. He follows me. I slam the cover of the machine down and turn to him. 'Honestly, what do you want?'

He closes in the space between us, and presses me against the machine with his body, his arms on either side of me, preventing me from going anywhere. Naturally, I bring one knee up on natural instinct, trying to kick him between the legs. But he was prepared, and wedged a leg between mine instead, pinning them tight against him.

Our faces are almost touching. 'How old _are _you?'

'Old enough to make decisions for myself,' I reply, leaning back, hoping to cut down the contact.

He doesn't back away; instead, he takes advantage and leans me back even more. 'Are you underage?' he asks.

I roll my eyes. 'Maybe.'

'You still fucking go to _school,_' he hisses.

I'm slightly scared, but I try not to show it. 'Yeah, I'm in Norman's English class. Why'd you think I know him?'

He seems to relax a little. '17?'

'I'm 16,' I answer, 'I skipped a year. Hey, at least I'm legal!'

'No, you're not. The legal age for prostitution is over 18,' he exclaims, and I roll me eyes.

'No one's counting, but okay.'

He presses me harder against the washing machine. 'Why didn't you tell me you were underage?'

'Well, I suppose you assumed i-'

'I assume a girl to be 18 when she's working in a fucking strip club, Brooke!' he snarls. 'I assumed ou just looked younger than your age. That's fucking common sense, yeah?'

'Why are you so uptight about it? I'll throw in my wallet and say you're probably doing a lot of illegal activities apart from this, so this doesn't actually need to be your concern. I'm not going to tell anyone, I'm trying to do business here,' I exclaim.

'Business?' he laughs. 'Opening your legs isn't business.'

'It's the only thing I can do that gives me enough money. You can condemn me if you want to, I'm already condemned. But if you're worrying that for some reason, I won't shut my mouth and get my fucking arse exposed to the whole student body, you're out of line. Now excuse me, I need to study,' I snap at him, but he doesn't even flinch.

Suddenly, he grabs my face and kisses me so hard I almost can taste my blood.

Then, he pulls away from me. 'Good. Then, if you put it that way, I'll be coming back for more. I won't have any excuses to use and that's all because of your little speech back there,' he whispers in my ear. He resumes to kissing me shortly afterwards, and reluctantly, I kiss back.

He doesn't stop there.

Before I know it, he's pushed up my skirt and unzipped his jeans. Gripping my thighs, he hoists me up and stacks me on top of the machine. 'Are you obsessed with sex?'

'I'm obsessed with power,' he answers, grinning, and thrusts into me.

'So...you're not stopping...even though you know you're- shit, exploiting underage girls? Or that... She doesn't really want- oh fuck-'

He laughs. 'Trust me, if you didn't like it, you would have stopped me long ago.'

'I like the money, I don't like the fucking,' I answer, and he chuckles again.

'It's really the same thing, when you think of it,' he states, and grips my hips harder.

'So you're not...' I stop for a moment to catch my breath. It's so _wrong_ but I actually like it a lot. And I can see his grey eyes burning into mine this time, unlike last time where I had looked away. 'So you're not concerned with fucking underage girls.'

He laughs again. 'Nah, I fuck everything and anything I can get my hands on. But of course, certain limits apply.'

'You're a fucking piece of work, you know? Real rich,' I throw out in between breaths.

He likes to laugh a lot, but this time he just blows out air through his noise and continues to bang me against the metal. I don't know whether I'm a whore for admitting this, but when he moves his hips against mine I throw back my head and moan in pleasure. 'You fucking love it, Brooklyn. You're gonna beg me for more, anyway, so don't complain about it.'

I grunt instead of answering him, so he protests by slowing down completely. 'Aw shit, Dylan, must you play games?'

'I like games, Brooke,' he whispers, kissing the area right behind my ear. I shiver and lean into his touch. 'Now beg for me or I'll continue slowly.'

I deny my needs for a few more minutes but he's driving me crazy and he knows. Before I even open my mouth, he knows he's won my body over (and the game). 'Oh god, Dylan, please...'

'Please what?' he smirks, the corner of his lips turning up.

'Goddamnit, can you just fuck me harder?' I snap.

He throws his head back and laughs, before picking up his pace again. I swear we are breaking the washing machine by going this hard.

This time we both finish, and I don't think I've felt this good in my whole life. And he knows it, the sneaky bastard. 'You wanna take a shower?' he asks.

I raise my eyebrows, but show him to the bathroom anyway, before stripping down and turning the water on both of us. He slowly starts massaging my shoulders. 'Mmmm, you should go into the business. Your shoulder rubs are amazingly good for a boy like you.'

He laughs again. 'You laugh a lot,' I comment. 'But I don't think it's real.'

'For a hooker, you're surprisingly fresh and observant. And foolish.'

'I'm new. You're my first,' I shrug. 'You're also pretty straight up.'

'Word of advice, just because I didn't steal your shit doesn't mean others won't. Never bring a customer home. Never give them your address. Never sleep before they leave.'

'Noted,' I answer, and lather up some shampoo before rubbing it in my hair. 'Besides, I wasn't even asleep.'

'I know. You were waiting for me to leave so you could cry,' he answers as a matter-of-factly.

I don't find enough embarrassment to blush or deny the fact. 'Hey, I was pretty torn up about giving out my first to some bastard,' I say, raising an eyebrow and looking straight at him. 'And it hurt like a total bitch. The next morning I tried to get out of bed my knees gave out.'

He looks pretty proud of that, and for some reason I chuckle at that. 'Fucking sadistic, that's what you are.'

When we're dry and back in our clothes, I ask him why he's still here, and he replied, 'I don't know. I'm trying to invade your personal space.'

I laugh, and this time it's as genuine as it can get.

'Uh huh, you're just going to do homework and ignore me?' he asks.

I roll my eyes. 'Have I told you that I'm into writing?'

'Now that's what you call "a fucking piece of work". A hooker into writing!' he guffaws, and I wonder what he thinks is so funny about that. I raise my eyebrows and keep a smile on my face, because I am cold, and I can't show him that I'm hurting because of his stupid comments.

Honestly, I have difficulty deciding what I think of this guy. I have such mixed emotions towards him.

He insults me in such discreet ways but there's something about him that screams for me to go closer. I shouldn't feel this way, but I've always fallen for the wrongest guys so... this is it.

'Honestly, I don't understand why you do this,' I speak up.

He drags his chair and sits right in front of me. 'Do what? Rile you up and make you feel angry? Or what, make you feel loved for one moment and then make you feel like dirt the next?'

I face him, not being able to pull my gaze from his.

It's that stare again, the grey blue eyes burning into me as he searches my face for some kind of secret or hidden emotion. His stare holds something I can't place. It's inquisitive and curious and it's also extremely threatening at some points. They're so unnerving but compelling.

'You always stare at people while talking. It scares me,' I admit to him, and he's amused by what I had to say.

'So that's it, Brooklyn? You're scared of me?'

'I-I guess so.'

He laughs, and gets up from the chair. 'Well, then. I better leave you alone. Here's your payment, I'll see you around.'

I take the cash from him, and he leaves the house, making a casual and slow leave.

Looking at the back of his leather jacket, I wonder whether he's good or bad news.


	3. Chapter three

**Author's notes:**

I hate this chapter. That's it. Seriously, I do.

**Chapter three.**

_Dylan Massett_

She's not the prettiest I've had, and she's not the most interesting, but she has a tint of sweetness and innocence, enough to distinguish her from the rest of the whores.

It was when I heard her crying that I became interested in her. Nevertheless, not interested enough to stop my daily activities- or to take the initiative to look for this girl.

I was a bit worried when I found her talking to Norman. A little bit. Partially because she can look 12 years old at times, and 12 years old really is too young for me. I decided to pay her a little visit, which turned out better than I hoped.

She also managed to read me, and no one has been able to for ages. _You smile a lot. But I don't think it's real. _So in turn, I insulted her, which she managed to brush off. I know she hurts, and I know because it would have hurt me too. But she smiles at me and pretends she's not affected.

To her, I'm her customer and even if I piss her off, there's nothing she can do about it.

I want to see it. I want to see her angry and blow up at me.

I don't like her; I just like messing with her. There are certain differences between interest in breaking a character and being interested with someone. I don't think many people can tell the difference.

I want to see her unravelling.

And it may seem like I'm fucking psycho, but there's no wrong in trying to look past layers of masks.

When I arrive home (should I call it that? I'm not welcome there), I sit on the front porch and smoke a cigarette, rearranging my thoughts. Norman comes and sits by me, even though there's a little bit of him that hates me for coming in and ruining their picture perfect life.

I ask him what he's so worried about, and he ends up telling me the whole story. Keith Summers, Zack Shelby… everything. Norma is unbalanced. Norman needs to be taken away from her. She's completely mental and unstable.

So I told him I would help him.

He says thank you. He's never said thank you to me.

His phone rings, and he smiles as he looks at the phone.

'Is that a girl?' I ask. He nods, and I continue. 'Is she pretty? Do you like her?'

He looks over at me, with a small shit-eating grin on his face.

'Text her right now and tell her you're coming over,' I say nonchalantly.

'What? I can't do that she just said hey!'

'Sure you can.'

Well, she doesn't want me to come over.'

I roll my eyes. 'Girls don't text you at ten o'clock at night because they _don't_ want you to come over,' I inform him. 'Okay? Trust me, I got laid when I was twelve.'

He laughs and I smile a little. 'Okay, just…text her.'

He looks a little disturbed, but punches in the words. 'I can't believe I just did that. I've never done that.'

I roll my eyes again and take a sip of my beer, and then his phone rings again. I pick it up to take a look. 'She says cool. My parents are asleep, you can come over.'

A moment passes. He stares at me eyes wide open and in disbelief. 'I can't do that, that's crazy.'

I roll my eyes at him, and stare at him. And I realise that Brooklyn is right. I do stare at people when I talk. 'It's the only thing that's not crazy right now, okay? Be a seventeen year old for five minutes, come on, go and have fun.'

He looks unsure. 'Right now?'

'Yeah, right now.'

I groan when he hesitates. 'She's waiting for you, dumbass! Come on, leave!'

He stands up, but looks at me uncertainly. 'Go!' I prompt him, smiling at his inexperience.

He gives me a smile, and walks away from the house.

I watch him off, and for some reason in my mind, I put him together with Brooklyn, and I compare them two.

I'm not stupid. I know she was forced into the job, and I was her first (and second) customer. She doesn't even know how to fuck like a hooker, and she's still insulted by the term. In a way, she's actually innocent. Definitely too trusting- enough for me to steal her number the first time I went into her house.

Norman is just... naïve. They are alike in ways, but not exactly the same. She seems desperate to prove something, and he's just... He just doesn't know what to do.

I finish the cigarette, and crush it on the sole of my shoes.

That's the night Norma gets arrested.


End file.
